Feeling a little heart broken.

My baby brother posted on facebook the other day that he is "done with religion."  His post was full of anger and hate.  Sadly, so many jumped on the bandwagon to encourage the young rebel.  My brother is 15.  The general consensus is that he is young, and everyone rebels when they are young.  Something inside me fights against that way of thinking.  Something says to me that happiness can not now, nor will it ever be found in growing your hair long, listening to foul music and treating others with disrespect.  (OK, the long hair thing wouldn't bother me except that he is doing as a way to be disrespectful to those around him, namely my parents.)

I think I am feeling an extra bit of sting because My little brother is the only one of us to be born under the covenant.  In other words, he was born after my parents were sealed in the temple.  I had waited my whole life for the opportunity to be sealed to my parents. The day we finally went to the Temple with my parents, I cried and cried.  I felt so much joy that my family was to be eternal, that the tiny baby my mom was carrying may never live in the same house I lived in, but that he was part of my family forever.  Now...that same little boy is throwing away that which I hold most precious.

The day we were sealed as a family, only myself and my then 3 year old sister were sealed to my parents.  My brother and sister were already adults and not worthy to go.  It made the day bitter sweet for me and my parents.  My sister wouldn't even come to the temple with us.  My little brother waited outside.  Now, 16 years later, I am the only one of my siblings still active.  Its kind of painful and lonely.  It feels like my siblings have chosen things like scream-o music, drinking beer or going to concerts on Sundays over me.  And it hurts.

I am stuck in that horrible place where if I say anything, I am considered judgmental and preachy.  I am looked down on by family and friends for my values, my commitment, my beliefs.  But if I don't I will be letting something precious and beautiful slip away unnoticed.  I said something.  I felt the backlash as person, after person told me how wrong I am.  I cry.  I would hurt less if my brother physically assaulted me.

The Door

Imagine that you are standing on one side of a door and Satan on the other.  He wants to get in and you want to keep him out.  For a while you are standing there pushing with every ounce on energy.  After a while you hear something.  It doesn't sound like Satan.  It sounds fun and you are so tired from constantly pushing.  You stop pushing and stand there looking at the door.  What harm could there be, if you opened the door just a tiny bit. Just a little peek.  You look at the door knob and think...."I'm strong.  I can open the door just a tiny bit.  If it's Satan, I'll just push it closed again.  He can't hurt me."  Your legs and arms ache from standing at the door.  You just want to rest for a while and have a little fun.  And it does sound fun out there.


So you open the door just a tiny bit.  It looks like just as much fun as it sounded.  You know Satan is out there somewhere, but you can't see him at all.  You think about how nice it would be to just relax for a while.  You open the door just a little wider, so you can see better.  But its still not enough.  You stick your head out to get just a little closer.  Suddenly Satan is RIGHT THERE!  You try to closer the door but Satan curls his fingers around the door.  The door feels so much heavier than it did before.  He is wedging his toe inside.  Before you know it, he is in up to his elbow.  You use your foot to push his toes back, but when you take your focus off his hands, he wedges his shoulder in.  When you try to push his arm back out, he has a knee through the door.  You feel weak, and tired.  You wonder if you should just give up and let him in. You think "How did this happen? How did Satan get so far inside?"   You know you don't have the strength to get him out by yourself.


Thankfully the story does not have to end there, right?  Just when you feel your weakest, you see your visiting teacher pushing against the door with you.  Your bishop is methodically peeling Satans fingers away from the door frame.  The Savior Himself is pushing Satan back out the door.  Once you are sure he is out, you bolt the door.  You pile every heavy piece of furniture in front of it.  Everyone stand at guard, determined to never let Satan in again. 


This may seem so simple and childlike, but I see it happening all around me every day.  I hear a good friend say "Oh I'm having lunch with my old professor.   It's not like anything will happen.  Besides, he isn't my type anyway."  I hear another say "I know why are both married, but there is no harm in chatting with this guy.  He makes me laugh.  Besides, he lives clear across the country.  What could happen."  I have seen good people fall into this trap time and time again.  A Ward Missionary, a primary counselor, a bishopric counselor.  Good, good men and women who let Satan get inside.  The process of getting him back out again, is so much harder and so much longer.    We have to remember that no one is exempt. No one gets a free pass.  Given the opportunity, Satan will take anyone.    

Amazed!

Today I am amazed.

Last night I was getting the kids ready to watch Liz play softball.  Hubby had just gotten home from work. We were minutes away from leaving when the phone rang.  It was someone from the softball team.  Liz had been hit in the face with a softball and they were sure her nose was broken.  I hurried everyone a little faster and we were on our way to the field.  I called our pediatrician's office on the way, and "Yes, we can see her right away.  Bring her right in."   I love that group of pediatricians!  (Remember, our actual doctor passed away a week or so ago.)  We got to the field to field our daughter surrounded by medical personnel and a weeping hysterical team mate.  It was actually a teammate that threw the ball.  I guess when it first happened she said "I killed her!  I killed Liz! We went right to the doctor and he sent use right in for x-rays.  After a couple hours we finally got a call that there was no break.  So far there have been no signs of concussion.  I am amazed at our body's ability to protect itself.  I am amazed that so many wonderful people rushed to help my daughter when she needed it.  I am amazed that even though she has two black eyes today and still pretty swollen, you can already see her body is in the process of healing.

I am amazed!  My baby is four!  Four year ago today, I was in the hospital, holding an itty bitty 5 lb 7 oz baby.  I expecting a robust 7-8 lb baby and wasn't prepared for the tiny infant they placed in my arms.  I was recovering from my final c-section.  My marriage was just in the first days of recovery from a rough couple of years.    Little Man brought me so much joy in those first days, when my heart was so tender.  Despite the fact that he is small for his age, he is happy and healthy and an absolute joy to be around.  He makes me laugh.  He loves Mommy best.  He loves baseball and running.  Today when I said "Happy birthday he said "I am four!  And Liz is four, but AK, he is only three."  He has learned his alphabet and numbers right along with my kindergartner, and is starting to sound out simple words.  Everything he does, he does with all of his heart and energy.  I am so blessed to have my sweet little guy.  I can't imagine our little world without him.  Happy Birthday Little Man!

Change

"Insanity us doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."  Rita Mae Brown or Albert Einstein or Benjamin Franklin or some other unknown person.  There seems to be many different opinions on who actually said those words, but I like them.

Change is very hard for me.  I am a creature of habit.  I like that which I can depend on, even if it isn't necessarily what is best for me.  I know how hard change is. Last night, I was visiting with my friend.  She is experiencing some struggles in her marriage.  She is a little angry.  She is a little bitter.  She is very hurt and very sad.  I talked to her about what was going on.  We both sit very firmly in the "Work it out, divorce is not the answer" club, so we are both on the same page about that.  However our methods are very, very different.  Near the end of the conversation I said "I hope things change for you soon."  She said "They wont.  Tomorrow I will stop crying about it and just deal with it. "  My heart broke a little for her.  I admire her strength and determination to have a happy marriage even in a less than ideal situation.  I'm not sure I would have the strength to do that.

For me change was necessary, even vital to the survival of my marriage.  I could not physically remain in that environment and be healthy. Since divorce was not on the table, it left me with one option.  Change my environment.  I had to make my marriage a better place to be. I suggested last night that my friend write a letter to her husband and express some of her frustrations with him.  She said no, that it would just make him mad.  For me, facing my husband's short term anger in order to eventually bring us to a place of peace was worth it for me.  Sometimes I had to be the bad guy and stand up for myself, and my feelings.  I had to insist that changes take place.  It doesn't mean that it was "my way or the highway."  It meant that I had to face things that were unpleasant and and be very clear what my needs and expectations were. For example, for various reasons internet safety is very important to me. It is a make it or break it situation.  Hubby wasn't thrilled when I suggested it, and sometimes is frustrated when the computer runs more slowly or when the fliter blocks something it shouldn't. However, I think that the procection it offers our family and ourmarriage is worth it. Hubby also has made requests from me.  When something is bothering him, he brings it up and sometimes it upsets me, but we then have the opportunity to change things and work toward something better.

I am so glad that we are not in the same place that we were 6 years ago.  We started out in what I thought was a pretty good marriage.  We found ourselves in a very bad marriage, and worked our way back to an even better marriage than what we started with.  I hope that in another 10 years I will be able to look back and say that our marriage is even better than it is now.  I hope that we wont stagnate, making the same mistakes over and over and expect a different result.

Gotta Move!

My little guy Sandman is a mover.  Sitting still just doesn't seem to be in his genetic make-up.  He runs from my front door to the corner of my kitchen, back and forth.  Our home is tiny.  1300 square feet for 8 people.   Now, I must first say that this behavior doesn't bother me *at all.*  He runs, a lot.  He also picks up new concepts faster than anyone I know.  He does well with school work, relates well to his peers. He is affectionate and loving to his family. However, it bothers other people, like Hubby, and his primary teachers, and his kindergarten teacher and the general populous that believes children should act more like 70 year old men then children.  I am positive that the issue that Hubby has is two-fold.  First, everyone is constantly saying our little Sandman must be ADHD or asperger or autitsic. Second, the path he travels multiple times a day lead Sandman right in front of the TV, and past the computer, causing disruption to Hubby's two favorite "I'm home from work" activities.  Once again, to make it perfectly clear, *I* do not believe that Sandman has any of these three issues.  I do believe that we are so unused to seeing the energy level of a normal healthy child, that any time we do, we assume something is wrong and must be "fixed."  I do believe that infusing our children with heavy duty drugs to the point of lethargy is terribly frightening!  As you can tell, I have some pretty strong feelings about this subject.  My feelings as so strong that I removed my child from school when the kindergarten teacher insisted that my child needed to be medicated.  So you can imagine my shock, dismay and genuine heartbreak when Hubby said last night "Why don't we just get him some medication?"  

Sigh.....In light of last nights conversation I have decided to renew my efforts to calm the tempest that is my child.  It actually breaks my heart a little to do so.  A good friend once told me that her son was considered ADHD as a child, but industrious and hard working as a man.  That is kind of what I see in my son.  Just tons of potential bubbling up the the surface.  However, I started this week on a few things to try to help him conform to society's expectations.  First of all I made sure the TV was off, the greatest portion of the day.  He runs the most when he is watching TV.  Second, I turned on Pandora.  The station I am currently playing is the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. It plays beautiful soft music, without putting all of us to sleep.  I have it playing softly enough that the kids really have to listen to hear it. Third, I am redirecting him, whenever he starts running,  I call him over to me, give him a big hug and remind him that we only run outside. Finally, I let him RUN...outside.  I am sure it will get easier as our weather improves.  Hopefully we can come to a happy medium that everyone will be happy with. 

Highs and Lows

Yesterday I found out that my children's pediatrician had passed away over the weekend. He was 38, and had 4 children around the same age as some of my children. I am so sad for his family.  I'm sad for my family too. He had cared for our family since we moved here four years ago. My little ones loved him.  I also feel a little vulnerable, a little fragile.  The world has one less "good guy" today.

Yesterday was also the first softball game of the year.  We missed our daughters first varsity game.  We were across town attending the baseball parent meeting.  However, we got there in time to see her play with the JV team.  (She is JV that plays up to varsity when needed.) The score was tied going into the last inning.  There was one out and Liz got up to the plate.  Hubby is standing behind me and says "She's going to knock it out of here." I chided him for expecting too much.  Seconds later we hear the crack as ball connects with bat.  Hubby is yelling behind me "It's gone! Its gone!"  The ball finally comes down, in the middle of the soccer field.  (Good thing that game had just ended.) Liz is rounding the bases.  The crowding screaming her name. Her teammates are mobbing her at home plate.  I made my way to the dug out to congratulate her, but was so  near tears I couldn't say a word. I love those moments.  When everything seems to come together. I don't think she stopped smiling all night.